


Everyone needs help sometimes

by Aaron Lime (Lime13)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Danganronpa Another 2 ~ Moon of Hope and Sun of Despair~
Genre: 5+1 Things, Characters are probably OOC, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Beta Read, but actually 3+1, kind of, possible spoilers for the game?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lime13/pseuds/Aaron%20Lime
Summary: 3 times Nikei helped others and 1 time they helped him.





	Everyone needs help sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> A little gift for Nikei on his birthday. Hope you enjoy!

“Wow. Just- _wow_ , Hajime,” Nikei sighed deeply, touching Hajime’s head and realizing that he had an incredibly bad fever. How did he even manage to make it to his apartment and not faint? “How did you not notice?”

“I dunno, bro!” mumbled the boxer, rubbing his sleepy, tired eyes, “I felt fine this morning, I swear!”

Nikei could only hum in response: Hajime was clearly lying, a fever couldn’t have gotten that high in a day, that’s for sure. Why was he lying? The journalist wasn’t sure and, in all honesty, didn’t really care.

Sighing, Nikei led the boxer to his bed and helped him lay down. He ordered Hajime to stay there, then went to the bathroom to find his first aid kit. That was where he kept all of his medicine, after all, and he hoped he had some antipyretic. Nikei didn’t care about Hajime, not at all, but he didn’t want him dying, you know?

When he finally found needed medicine, he returned to his room only to find Hajime fast asleep and snoring loudly. Rolling his eyes, Nikei put antipyretic on the nightstand and looked at the boxer, who was gasping and wincing in his sleep, snoring. He quickly shook himself out of that, though, covered Hajime with a blanket and got back to work. Scoops do not sleep, after all.

Hajime thanked him sincerely after waking up and taking his medicine, feeling much better. Nikei told him to be more mature, stop ignoring his health problem and finally go to the doctor, he won’t take care of him next time.

* * *

  


“I’m scared, Nikei! I’m definitely gonna fail! My family will hate me!” cried Iroha, hiding behind her sketchbook that was almost the same size as her head. She was sitting in the corner of Nikei’s room and shaking like a leaf. She came here not so long ago, maybe half an hour, crying, weeping almost.  
“I get that. Exams can feel stressful,” nodded Nikei and sat near her trembling form, “but guess what? When you’re done, you’ll have one more proof that you’re a great artist! You may even be accepted in Hope’s peak, who knows?”

“I’m not that great of a painter,” mumbled Iroha but lowered the sketchbook, showing her teary eyes. Nikei rolled his eyes and gave her a flick on the nose, ruffing her hair up. She looked at him, clearly confused, and saw that he was staring at the wall, not at her.

“Dammit, Iroha. You were raised in a huge family of painters. You were taught to paint since you were little. Hell, your paintings are seen as photographs by many!” Nikei sounded angry, irritated, but Iroha felt that it, strangely enough, wasn't directed at her, “So don't be ridiculous, you're not a bad painter at all. Don't be stupid, okay? That's what Hajime and Emma are for”.

Iroha giggled at the last sentence and thanked him quietly after a few minutes of silence. Nikei told her not to mention it and go get ready for exams, or she might actually fail.

* * *

  


Emma seemed really, really uncomfortable, sad, wistful. She sat in Nikei’s kitchen and waited for him to fish soy sauce-flavored soda out of his fridge. He passed it to her and sat in front of her, opening his can.

“So, what brings you to me, Ultimate Helper, today?” Nikei asked with a bored look on his face. He was kind of fed up with others coming to him and asking for help when he was trying to work on the latest scoop. He could bear it when they would just come and spend some time in his apartment, that was fine, he didn't mind them sitting near him or watching TV, but being here all the time and venting to him like he was their personal therapist? Really?

“Ultimate Helper?” repeated Emma with a confused expression. Nikei sighed and scowled, clearly frustrated.

“Forget it. What’re you doing here?”

The kitchen became silent once again. Emma was looking at her can, not opening it but not refusing to drink it. The journalist was quiet for a few minutes, too, waiting patiently, but snapped pretty quickly:

“Look, I haven’t got all day! Either tell me or get out!”

Emma flinched, took a deep breath and opened her mouth to start talking, feeling his annoyance, but couldn’t get any words out. She wordlessly opened the can of soda and drank a little bit, thinking that her throat was just a little dry, but it didn’t help at all.

Seeing that Emma was having some problems with talking, Nikei frowned. The actress was usually pretty energetic, voluble, active, always joking around and often pranking people. Now, though, she seemed stressed, anxious even, considering her shaking foot and tapping of her free fingers. So, he decided to do what he did best and grabbed a pen from behind his ear, twisting it in his fingers. 

“Okay, Ms. Magorobi, I have some questions for you,” he said in a calm, professional voice that he often used in interviews, opening a notebook that was always around his neck, “I hope you have some time for an interview?”

Emma seemed puzzled for a moment but then smiled widely, nodding and rubbing her neck. Nikei knew that this kind of “role-play”, if it could be called that, usually helped her overcome her inability to talk sometimes. 

So she yelled, and she cried, and she sniffed, and she threw the can on the floor, and she told Nikei everything that was bothering her, from adoptive parents to the last stressful audition.

When she was leaving the next morning, Emma thanked him for listening. Nikei told her not to worry about it and to leave him alone, for Christ’s sake.

* * *

  


+1  


Weekends came, and Hajime, Iroha, and Emma decided to visit Nikei and bring him some food. They even brought a cake because it was his birthday! Sure, Nikei specifically said not to get him anything, but who wouldn’t be happy to eat some cake?

They found his door open and walked into his apartment freely, without any trouble. Hajime quietly made his way to Nikei’s room and carefully opened the door, peeking inside. Seeing what was inside and rolling his eyes, he wordlessly called others to show them.

They saw tired, messy-looking Nikei sitting on his bed and quickly writing something on his laptop, occasionally looking at the notes in his notebook. His eyes were running over the words on the screen with incredible speed, he was biting his thumbnail and mumbling something under his nose, smiling to himself, his hair was wild, all odds and ends. Under his eyes were deep, deep black circles that no healthy person should have. He wasn't even wearing his usual clothes, just some T-shirt and shorts, the only usual thing he had on was his hat that he would occasionally touch nervously.

Emma sighed deeply, shook her head disapprovingly and walked into the room, finally catching the attention of Nikei. He quickly knitted his brows, not quite understanding what they were doing there, in his apartment.

“Bro, we’ve talked about it, haven’t we?” Hajime came in, Iroha following him soon after, “You need to sleep, dude!”

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead of answering the question. He didn’t get an answer, everyone just came closer. Suddenly, Iroha closed the laptop and took it from Nikei, hiding it behind her back. He didn’t even have time to react because Emma threw a blanket that was found on the floor on him, and Hajime tucked him in.

“I don’t have time for this, you idiots!” Nikei shrieked, trying to get out of blanket prison but to no avail, “What the hell are you three?! Let me go!”

“You need to sleep, bro. It’s your health, you should be more mature about it,” Hajime’s voice sounded strict, harsh, almost like the voice of a fed up mother dealing with a difficult child. It only made journalist’s blood boil more.

“Let me go!”

“Stop being stubborn and stupid, Nikei! That’s what Emma and Hajime are for, remember?” huffed Iroha and went to the kitchen, leaving the laptop there so the journalist wouldn’t be able to get it easily. She also opened the fridge and took soy sauce-flavored soda with her back to the room.

“Let me work towards my dream, jackasses!”

“Come on, Nick, calm down. Now, let’s drink and stay hydrated, then go to sleep, yeah?” Emma said, accepting the can from Iroha and opening it, making Nikei drink at least a little bit. Honestly, he wanted to spit it out just to spite her, but he didn’t want to clean the floor and his blanket later. It was his apartment, after all.

Believe him, Nikei tried to fight, tried to break free, to continue working on his article because he had to, because he couldn’t be the best if he didn’t contribute all of himself to his work! Still, lying in his bed with a soft blanket around him felt so cozy, so comfortable, so fluffy. His eyelids suddenly felt really heavy, he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, so he drifted off slowly, calmly.

When he woke up fourteen hours later, Nikei didn’t say anything to Iroha who was sleeping next to his bed. He didn’t say anything to Emma who was sitting in the corner with a book in her hands and smiled when he got up. He didn’t say anything to Hajime who came later with a bunch of fresh fruits.

Nikei didn’t thank them, didn’t mention last day at all, actually. He silently made breakfast and a cup of coffee for all of them and watched TV with them, eating the cake they’d brought.  
And that was enough for all of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm not a native English speaker, so I probably made some mistakes! Please, correct any of them in the comments!  
> If you want to scream at me for ooc-ing the characters, though, do it at Tumblr: @lime-trash. See you there!


End file.
